


Playing House

by Nanaea



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Baking, Cookies, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, My First Work in This Fandom, POV Spike (BtVS), Prompt Fic, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-05
Updated: 2009-05-05
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9985157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanaea/pseuds/Nanaea
Summary: Buffy fell silent while she spooned the last of the dough onto the cookie sheet and slid it into the oven. Something was definitely bothering her. But Spike didn't get to be as old as he was without learning to bide his time.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dazzledfirestar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzledfirestar/gifts).



> Written in response to a drabble meme prompt from Dazzledfirestar over on LJ - she gave me: Buffy/Spike ... baking cookies.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into doing this," Buffy sighed.  
  
Spike shot her a quizzical look. "It's not like you haven't done it before."  
  
"I know," Buffy paused to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes, then shrugged. "But not with you. It's ... different."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because, you're– You know...."  
  
"A bloke?"  
  
"No. I was going to say a vampire."  
  
"Is that the only reason?" Spike chuckled.  
  
"Yes," Buffy insisted. "Of course it is."  
  
Spike didn't believe her. She agreed too fast to not be hiding something.  
  
"I mean, do you even eat cookies?" she asked, obviously trying to change the subject.  
  
"I eat lots of things, luv." He let his gaze rake over Buffy's figure before coming to rest on the pale column of her throat. He licked his lips and her pulse jumped in reaction. It made his stomach clench with desire. God, how he longed to sink his fangs into her.  
  
"Um ... Spike?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're drooling."  
  
It was an effort to tear his gaze away from her neck, but he managed. "Sorry, pet. Old habits...."  
  
Buffy fell silent while she spooned the last of the dough onto the cookie sheet and slid it into the oven. Something was definitely bothering her. But Spike didn't get to be as old as he was without learning to bide his time.  
  
After a while she started to say something, stopped, then began again, "I never really pictured myself as the June Cleaver type, you know? But, sometimes I wish...." Buffy shook her head and stared at the disarray on the counter.  
  
Spike lifted her chin. "Don't."  
  
"But–"  
  
"No buts, Buffy. You are an amazing woman. And it would take a bloody fool not to realize that."  
  
Buffy looked thoughtful for a moment, then her features relaxed and she graced him with a soft smile. "Thanks."  
  
Spike gave a slight nod. "You're welcome."  
  
He knew he should step back, let her go, but his body refused to obey his mind. His fingers lingered against her flesh, drinking in the feel of her. The surprising part was, she didn't move either. She just stared up at him with those green eyes, waiting.  
  
He was about to give in to temptation when Tara entered the kitchen. "Oh! I-I didn't realize you, um ... you had company."  
  
"Tara!" Buffy jumped at the untimely intrusion and scrambled away from Spike.  
  
"I'm sorry. I just thought I smelled something burning, so I...." Tara caught Spike's glower and faltered. "I-I'll leave."  
  
"No! It's fine. We were just, we were.... Oh, god! The cookies!" Buffy rushed over to the oven and threw the door open. Grabbing a potholder, she pulled the tray of burnt cookies out and set them on top of the stove.  
  
"Great," she sighed. "They're ruined."  
  
"Cookies aren't the only thing ruined," Spike muttered under his breath.  
  
Buffy turned to look at him. "What did you say?"  
  
"Nothing," Spike lied. "Don't worry about it, luv. They're just cookies."  
  
"Yeah," Tara agreed, smiling. "You can always make more."

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the characters/world appearing within. I do this purely for my own enjoyment. I make no money from it, claim no rights to it, and have a mortal fear of lawyers.


End file.
